


Girl Talk

by Rozel



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozel/pseuds/Rozel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An after work drink at The Lantern. Time for some girl talk!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drivebylove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drivebylove/gifts).



> Girl Talk is dedicated to Karen, who I met while on holiday. She shared my love of the lads and is a writer in her own right. We had some 'girl talk ourselves!
> 
> With the emergence of the feminist movement throughout the 1970s and 1980s, it needed to be discussed in a Pros context.

Usual Disclaimer

I don’t own the characters of Bodie and Doyle, or any others from the TV series. They belong to Mark One Productions and Brian Clemens.

I borrow them to write fiction for my own (and hopefully your) pleasure, with no financial gain to myself or anyone else.

 

GIRLTALK

Booth One

The Lantern was not a particularly fashionable wine bar. It saw its fair share of the young professional market, but more as passing trade than regulars. It was however, the favoured haunt for after hours drinking of the female staff of a certain government agency. One that was fairly clandestine and rather choosy about its employees.

Early Friday evening, after a normal (by their standards) week, the ladies met up. Marion, dark, vaguely Oriental looking, Gill, blonde and sweet tempered. Rachel, a tall brunette with startlingly blue eyes and Rhoda, feisty and outspoken. Just a group of attractive, young women meeting up for an after work drink. Nothing unusual in that, but between them the ladies possessed Firsts in Political Science, European History, Maths and English. Each one had been carefully investigated by George Cowley himself, and offered positions within CI5. The money wasn't great, but the ethos and idealism behind the organisation had intrigued each woman to accept the job.

"Thank goodness that week's over," said Marion, struggling out of her coat. "Don't want to see another report on the Russian trade negotiations this side of Christmas."

"As it's only just April, your wish is unlikely to be granted," remarked Gill. "I fervently hope that the computer actually speeds up a bit. I sat there for three hours today, waiting for it to sort military information. Mr Cowley was getting really impatient, but it can only go as fast as it is programmed." She sighed and sipped her wine. 

The women settled themselves and chatted desultorily about life, fashion and the news of the day.

The Lantern was divided into small booths, each seating six people, and divided from its neighbour by a high backed bench. The lighting was the bright side of dim, and each booth was furnished with a wooden table. A menu was propped up against a vase of carnations which from the look of them would need replacing soon. Marion left her seat and went to the bar to order some food. 

"Did you see Murphy this morning?"asked Gill. "He looked lovely. So sweet and always smiling." 

The other ladies laughed at her. Gill was known to hold a candle for the tall, good looking agent.

She blushed at their good natured jesting.

"Well he is cute . . . not like Anson. Those awful smelly cigars he's always smoking. Goodness knows how he gets through the physicals! Plus, he's always so bad tempered." There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

"Mike Roberts is nice," replied Rachel. "I've had lunch with him once or twice. It seems we enjoy the same type of music. He asked me out to the Roundhouse for the folk evening next week."

"Folk music!" replied Rhoda. "I'd never have thought that was your type of thing at all!"

Rachel smiled at her friend. "It's the Irish in me," she answered. "My dad was in a singing group back in Dublin, before we moved to England. I've been listening to the old Gaelic songs since I was a baby."

"You share the same background as Bodie then," said Rhoda. "He's half Irish too. I was helping Betty one day and I looked in his file!"

The other women stared at her before breaking into giggles.

"Oh my word," spluttered Marion, "you fancy Bodie don't you. You be careful there young lady. That's one man you really need to treat with kid gloves. He's a looker, make no mistake, but there's something very dangerous about him too."

Rhoda smiled sweetly.

"He's certainly a challenge that's for sure," she remarked. "One I'd look forward to taking on."

The food arrived, the usual pub fare of scampi/chicken/hamburger all accompanied by the inevitable chips and limp lettuce. The women tucked into the food, hungry and eager for comfort food.

"What about Roger Jackson then?" asked Marion. "He's a bit of a dark horse. Came from the Navy I think - submarines or such like. He's a cheery bloke, always joking."

They all agreed that Jackson was a great bloke to have around the office.

Rhoda pushed her plate away and put both hands on the table. She solemnly looked at her colleagues.

"I . . . " she said with great effect, "am going to ask Bodie out!" Her comment was met with gasps and laughter.

"Good luck there," said Gill, her face pink with merriment. "I'm not sure who to feel sorriest for. You, or the big man."

Rhoda shrugged her shoulders.

"Nobody turns a hair nowadays when the girl asks a bloke out. Why shouldn't I? Anyway, he probably likes a woman who knows her own mind."

"Bodie just likes women," came the swift rejoinder from Rachel. "If half the stories I hear around the office about him are true, it’s a wonder he's not permanently knackered."

Marion sat there quietly listening to the comments with a smile on her lips. When the hilarity had died down, she spoke.

"I'd rather like to get know Ray Doyle. He's different to the rest . . . and," she added "has rather lovely green eyes."

Gill laughed out loud.

"Ray! Well, he certainly is different. Those jeans! Usually half his shirt buttons undone. He needs to learn to dress himself properly first. At least Bodie looks neat and tidy."

"That's what I like about him though," protested Marion. "Arty and hippie-ish." 

"We could double date," suggested Rhoda, with more than a hint of cheekiness in her voice. "Compare notes afterwards . . . ." Her final comment was drowned by the women's laughter.

Booth Two  
In the next booth, hidden by the high back bench, Betty and Sally sat together, nursing their wine, and convulsed with amusement at the conversation from their four colleagues.

Sally, tall and attractive had her fist stuffed in her mouth in an effort to hold back her laughter. Opposite her, Betty, tears running down her face, was trying unsuccessfully to clean up the mascara trailing down her cheeks.

"Shall we put them out of their misery Sal?" she asked between stifled giggles.

Sally, choking back yet another guffaw shook her head.

"No, bless them; they’re quite new and innocent. Let them have their fantasies while they still can. They’ll learn. After all, we did, didn't we?

Betty wiped her eyes again and took a deep breath.

"When I think back," she said, "I can't remember a time when I didn't not like Bodie. That little boy lost look when he wants his reports typed, that grin when he's chatting you up . . .”

". . . or thinking of food!"remarked Sally. "I swear he puts away enough for two normal people each meal!"

"Well, there's a lot of him to feed," said Betty  
.  
"You'd know, Bet," replied her friend wickedly.

The women fell silent, each thinking about their own experience and relationships with two of CI5's finest.

Betty Joins CI5  
Betty had worked for George Cowley since the inception of CI5. She’d been working with others in a junior role for him at MI5. When Cowley was given carte blanche to set up the new department, he had made her an offer too good to pass by. Betty had swiftly shown her mettle. Alongside her excellent secretarial skills, she possessed a sharp mind and a cool analytical approach to problems. Cowley soon realised she was a prized asset to the fledgling department.

She had proved indispensible during the recruitment process, assessing data and information about each contender. Cowley soon learned to respect her judgement, and actively encouraged her to share her opinions. She had advised against DI Chives, a policeman from a provincial force, echoing the decision that Cowley had already made. She saw something in Anson that had eluded his previous employer, again voicing sound reason that Cowley had agreed with.

Once the department was up and running, she took a more traditional role as PA to Cowley. She was genuinely fond of the irascible Scotsman, and saw how hard he worked. Seeing the incredible workload he had, and the high standards he demanded of himself and his agents, she saw it as her task to allow him the freedom to do his job, without the interruptions and petty disturbances that beset so many of his colleagues. Even the Minister took heed of her in his dealings with CI5.

Some months after the inception of the service, William Andrew Philip Bodie had come in for interview. Betty had prepared his file as she had done with so many others, and sat in on the interview.

Bodie was nervous, but covered it well. He chatted easily about his days working for the highest bidder in whichever war torn country needed mercenaries. He told of his disillusionment with that way of life, and his pride when he returned to the UK and joined the regular army. His time with the SAS was well documented and his references were excellent. However, his eyes narrowed when questioned about his early life. His answers were short and sharp and delivered with a hardness that spoke volumes.

"Och, he'd be a good man to have on board. He has the mindset and practical skills CI5 needs." said Cowley, swirling a very large whisky around the glass.

It was early evening and he had spent the day interviewing the final group of men that would form his squad.

"He's very evasive about his family life sir," replied Betty quietly. 

"He's a damaged young man," said Cowley. "I made enquiries into his past. Drunken, ineffectual father . . . no money in the home to speak of. Stepfather was even worse. Violent! Bodie finally snapped. Left the man immobile for nearly six months and took off before he could be prosecuted."

He shook his head. He had genuinely liked the young man, and was prepared to take a chance on him.

"He'll need the right sort of partner of course. He could be a loose cannon if left to his own devices."

Betty looked back through her notes.

"There are a couple of names that might fit the bill sir."

Cowley smiled at the young woman. She looked exhausted. It had been so busy for months and she had been at the forefront most of the time.

"It can wait ‘til tomorrow Betty," he said.

She looked up gratefully and quickly gathered her coat and bag, before wishing him a brief goodnight.

Cowley heard the ping of the lift as it clanked its way down to the ground floor. Walking round his office, turning off the lights, he found Betty's notepad. He turned it around and smiled to himself.

She had underscored the name Ray Doyle in red ink. In her work load the following day, Cowley had left a message on his dictation machine for her to contact the young policeman with an offer of employment. In his terms and conditions was the advice he would be partnered with William Andrew Philip Bodie.

Bodie had initially rebelled against being teamed with anyone, but after a few standoff moments, he and Ray Doyle settled into the partnership. Betty liked the two agents very much, but it was Bodie who won her over.

Back in Booth Two  
“I didn’t even realise I liked him so much,” she said to Sally over another glass of wine.

“He sort of creeps up on you. One minute he’s sitting on the edge of my desk, the next he’s hunkered over me, reading the contents of any file I’m working from. I used to tell him off, but then he’d switch on that devastating smile and I’d forgive him anything.”

Sally swirled the dregs of liquid around her glass.

“I did think it was strange you going out with him you know. He’s got a reputation with the ladies hasn’t he?”

Betty smiled.

“He certainly has, and at first I thought it was . . .” she struggled to find the right word, “. . . inappropriate. However I just couldn’t resist him. He certainly knows how to treat you. We went to the best restaurants and bars. The theatre. Some of the most fashionable clubs in London! He always bought flowers or a small gift. I’ve got a beautiful gold bracelet he gave me.”

Betty blushed at the memory of the occasion when Bodie had given her the bracelet.

Sally noticed her friend’s reaction and laughed gently. 

“Bet! You’re blushing. I know you had an affair with him. It was one of the few times when he seemed genuinely settled. Doyle noticed it . . . even remarked on it.”

Betty looked across the table, her grey eyes clear and wide.

“We were together for about six months, or were when Bodie wasn’t away, working. Honestly Sally, he was wonderful. I’d had one long term relationship and it became very difficult in its final stages. I decided the next time I’d have a bit of fun. Nothing serious or long term. Someone to take my mind off Adrian. I didn’t expect it to be Bodie! He certainly made life bearable. The first time we went out he escorted me from the taxi to my front door and gave me a very chaste kiss on the cheek. I laughed and asked if that was the best he could do! Next thing he’d actually swept me off my feet. His arms were completely around me. He’s so broad and those eyes . . . up close! I’ve never been kissed like that since!” She looked across at her friend.

“I’ve never had a lover like him either! He said I taught him to make love and he taught me to fuck!”

Sally stared at Betty and then threw her head back and laughed out loud. Betty sat there and then she too burst out laughing.

Betty rummaged through her bag for a tissue. She wiped the tears of laughter away from her eyes and sat back in the depths of the seat.

“So what about Doyle then? You’ve always been very matey with him.

Sally grinned and began to speak.

Back To Booth One  
Plates and cutlery pushed to one side, the women were chatting, winding down for the weekend.

“I think you’ll have your hands full with Bodie,” announced Rachel to Rhoda.

Rhoda, ever quick with a come-back grinned at the assembled group.

“Oh I do hope so,” she said, shamelessly milking the double entendre.

Gill giggled at the comment.

“You don’t hold back do you?” she said. “Mind you, I reckon it could be quite difficult if you work with him. What if he’s on a job and gets hurt? What about the times he has to go away. Last time Bodie and Doyle were gone for three weeks – I assembled the work file and it showed where they’d been and what the job was. Nasty stuff . . . in the Midlands. Shots were fired, and Doyle spent one night in prison! Bodie was a nightclub under an alias – his drink bill was huge!”

Rhoda looked across at Gill. She carried on.

“Blimey Gill. I hadn’t really gone into it that much. I was thinking more about a fast and furious fling. He’s way older than me and I’m not looking for anything long term.”

“He’s thirty one,” said Marion, “hardly past his prime. Doyle’s older . . . thirty three I think.”

Rhoda sighed theatrically. 

“It’s not going to happen is it? I can dream, but Bodie’s not going to look twice at an assistant manager on the Home Counties desk.” 

Rachel cut in.

“Bodie looks twice at anything in a skirt, so I’m told.”

“Ah well,” said Gill, “with feminism taking hold and the recent new equal pay rules CI5 and the old guard may have to change. We’ve even got female operatives now. Look at Sally and Susan.”

Rhoda nodded thoughtfully.

“You’re right, but women need men like Bodie. I like a bloke who opens doors and buys flowers . . . but who can also bang like a door in a gale!”

The rest of the group collapsed laughing at such an apt description of 3.7.

Booth Two  
“I just hit it off with Ray,” said Sally. “I’ve no idea why. He just appeared in the rest room one day, all skinny hipped and casual and that was it! We got talking and found we liked the same books and music. He had tickets to a film so we went together. Nothing happened, no great sweeping me off my feet. We’ve gone on like that ever since.”

Betty shook her finger in mock severity at the attractive woman.

“Sal, I know you’ve gone the distance with him, so don’t pretend otherwise. Just get it off your chest. You’d be surprised at how life affirming washing your dirty laundry in public can be,” she added in a voice heavy with mirth.

Sally pushed her hair out of her eyes and faced up to her friend.

“Betty, you’re such a nosy baggage! My life won’t be worth living if I don’t tell will it?”

Betty nodded her head, satisfied that Sally would spill the beans.

“It was after Ray came out of hospital. He’s hurt his arm badly and couldn’t shave. I went round to his flat to freshen it up and get some food in for him. We’d both had enough to drink - I helped him shave the beard – and well, one thing led to another.”

She signalled to the waiter for another bottle of wine.

“It was only meant to be a one off really. I’m not looking for commitment. In this job it’s too risky, and anyway Ray said when he does meet Mrs Right, he’ll leave the service. I’m not looking for that. I want a career with CI5 – who knows, maybe I’ll be the first female Alpha! In the meantime we just get together now and again for a bit of fun and games. He’s kind and tender and we know what each other wants, so there’s no awkwardness. We both know the score. No strings attached and we don’t let it interfere with the job.” 

Betty laughed

“Times have changed,” she said. “Ten years ago we wouldn’t have had this conversation. I’m not an ardent feminist, but it’s easier for us to have it all nowadays. Career, marriage . . . more freedom to choose how we want to live. More personal responsibility!”

Betty refilled their glasses.

“We’re lucky really aren’t we Bet?” said Sally after a while.

Betty nodded her agreement.

“If you mean that we’ve both had affairs with two good looking and passionate men then yes we are . . . extremely lucky. Especially as we’re still friends and colleagues with them. It could have been so different you know.”

Sally replied.

“God forbid they should ever be badly hurt, or even killed, but it’s something we all know could happen. We play as hard as we work and why not some fun now and again?”

Betty smiled at her friend.

“It’s more than that though isn’t it Sally? We’re becoming financially independent, and there are so many choices open to us. Mind you, in our line of work, we’re not the average nine to five types are we . . . first female Alpha indeed.” 

They both giggled at the thought of Sally taking on George Cowley’s role. 

“I’ve already developed a liking for a pure malt scotch,” replied Sal.

Betty checked her watch.

“Come on Sal. It’s gone eight o-clock and my laundry won’t do itself.”

Sally nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. I’ve got to stop off and get some food in. Got family coming for lunch on Sunday.”

They finished their drinks and collected jackets and bags.

Together they slid across the bench seats and left the booth. At the same time, the younger women from the next booth were also leaving. Betty and Sally called out to the younger woman, and the group moved towards the entrance. As they reached the door of the pub, it was pushed open smartly and Bodie stood at the threshold.

“Ladies! What a pleasant surprise. We could do with something to brighten up our dull little lives, couldn’t we Doyle?”

He opened his arms expansively and enveloped as many of the women as he could, shepherding them back into the pub. Doyle followed, collecting the ladies that Bodie couldn’t reach. He slipped an arm about Betty and Sally, and gently kissed them both as he swept them back into the warmth of the pub.

Bodie propelled his brood along to one of the booths.

“Come on we can all get in if we don’t mind squashing up a bit,” he said. 

He slid along the seat and found himself sitting between Rhoda and Betty.

He turned his head towards Betty and whispered in her ear.

“Just like old times Bet isn’t it. Want to have dinner later?” 

She slapped him gently on the arm.

“Bodie, you are incorrigible,” she scolded, before adding, “dinner would be lovely.” The laundry could wait.

Doyle watched his partner work his charm on the women. He smiled at the new ladies, thinking how young they were nowadays. He glanced at Sally, and was rewarded with a wink.

“Bet and I have been talking about you two,” she said.

“Aha,” said Doyle, making the sound form an unanswered question. “Did we come out of it well?”

Sally gave a low giggle.

“You did alright love.”

Doyle gently caressed the back of her neck, his action hidden by her curtain of hair. 

“I can do better if you want to come back to my place,” he said, a slow smile crossing his features.

The shopping would have to wait!


End file.
